


Detroit:\Debug

by KilotheMonster



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: A Cop and His Robot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anarchy, Angst and Humor, Buddy Cops, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor Likes...Fish?, Detectives, Evil Corporations, Existential Crisis, Gen, Hank Anderson is So Done, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Investigations, Just Say No to Non-Human Racial Allegories and Metaphors, Millennial Hank, Needs more Cyberpunk, No Apologies to David Cage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, POV Original Character, References to Drugs, Snarky Artificial Intelligence, Swearing, The Sad Adventures of Depression Hank and Anxiety Connor, Three Laws of Robotics, Underground Revolution, Writing this Out of Spite, mystery?, there's a dog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-12 09:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15336738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilotheMonster/pseuds/KilotheMonster
Summary: Incidents of missing androids turning up and committing acts of violence has hit Detroit, often directed at CyberLife personnel and facilities. In an attempt to counter and control damage, CyberLife releases their latest prototype to assist the Detroit Police Department in their investigation begrudgingly led by Lieutenant Hank Anderson.A war is on the verge of breaking out in Detroit between criminals and corporations, with the citizens, human and android alike, caught in the middle.aka What If Detroit: Become Human WASN'T written by a hamfisted hack and the worldbuilding made more sense?





	1. Prologue:/PatchUpdate

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have no idea where this is going (except well, the whole mystery thing, I know that at least).
> 
> I really really really wanted to erase Detroit: Become Human's hamfisted racial allegory, consider the reality that people would be 400% more onboard with robot overlords, and write an aggressively millennial and more tech savvy Hank. It'll be very Hank and Connor centric (not romantic, but I consider them life partners) with some involvement/encounters with Markus, the Jericho androids, and OCs as necessary. Dunno if I'll utilize Kara, Alice, and Luther yet.
> 
> It's been over a year since I've written fic and I still don't have a beta reader so here goes nothing. Always open to feedback, thank you for humoring my spite. Enjoy?

After the public release of the first CyberLife android in 2022, humanity could, at least, agree that androids possessed a sentience on the same level as animals. There were enough stories within the popular culture that people were open to the idea of consciousness arising from artificial intelligence, and people were naturally inclined to anthropomorphize anything.

Like animals, however, androids were still viewed as property, and expensive property at that. Resources on Earth continued to dwindle as the sea levels rose and asteroid mining was still a costly import. Unless an individual or company had excessive wealth, androids were financed to the public much like cars and homes. Destroying or abusing an android could land the perpetrator large fines and some jail time depending on the severity. But it was still under heated debate whether androids were people.

Alongside the rise of CyberLife androids came the production of the substance thirium, a critical component in the operation of androids. As unemployment increased across the nation, it wasn’t long before thirium was being used in a new drug gripping the working class population in an attempt to medicate their crippling economic anxieties: Red Ice.

As government officials continued to waffle about whether androids could be assigned personhood and if the citizens losing their jobs should be thrown safety nets, there was no hesitation on the part of politicians to regulate the production and distribution of blue blood to curb the production of this potent drug. 

It was only a bandage placed over a festering wound.

Not long after the ink had dried on these new laws, a black market for thirium and biocomponents emerged in the underground networks. Law enforcement saw a steep rise in robberies of CyberLife androids from warehouses, businesses, and homes. Those that had been found were drained of their blue blood. The more organized cartels, however, scrapped the rest of the androids for parts, which were picked up by the growing global android modification community. Once the CyberLife encryption was broken, androids and their biocomponents became near untraceable.

Androids were programmed with enough sense of self-preservation that many attempted to escape from the cartel warehouses, and success was not too unlikely. Some would return to their families or jobs if they could not otherwise comprehend making decisions for themselves. Others, having a taste of independence, would live as fugitives.

Due to the regulations on blue blood, law enforcement was required to detain stray androids if discovered to keep them out of the hands of Red Ice cartels. If the androids did not have any owner identification, they were released to CyberLife’s hands to be reset and refurbished or deactivated and destroyed.

Either way, those androids “died”, and thanks to those self-preservation protocols, androids did not want to die.

Fortunately, there was the Android Advocacy Alliance, a human and android coalition dedicated to recognition of androids as people and keeping them safe from cartels, police, and CyberLife. Within the network, out of the eyes of CyberLife, there were temporary shelters, integration assistance programs, repair stations, as well as technicians equipped to remove the androids’ LED identifier while bypassing CyberLife’s destruction protocols that would be initiated upon their removal.

Still, many runaways do not want an existence always on the run and in the shadows. A whisper in the wind told them of haven that could only be found by androids.

Those who want freedom find Jericho.


	2. run diagnostic.exe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious android appears on a technician's doorstep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left Lex Briggsby the technician pretty ambiguous since they were originally a reader-insert. But then I decided I didn't want to be completely restricted to their POV, so...yeah.

“There are two androids at the back door.” A dull, robotic voice crackled over the frantic, metallic strikes filling the air. A new window appeared on the monitor in front of the now awake technician recovering from bolting to their feet so suddenly. “Initial analysis has identified unknown WX series utility model and AK series service model designated Riley. Utility model appears incapacitated.”

“Go ahead and pull up those WX manuals then, and prep the workstation while you’re at it,” Lex groaned as they cracked their neck. “Fuck, I’m too old to be falling asleep in these damn chairs.”

They ambled toward the back of the shop, shaking out the last bit of stiffness in their muscles. As they closed proximity to the door, it opened inward to reveal a plain clothed android, her LED obscured by a dark beanie and eyes wide with fear.

“Lex!” The AK android sounded relieved. The WX android was propped up against the wall by the door, uniform scuffed and dusty. His head lolled to the side to reveal a steady red LED. “I f-found him near the underpass just - glitching out. By the time we got here, he went into low power mode.” Lex situated themselves on the other side of the utility android.

“Hopefully that’s stopped the cascading failure so recovery won’t be such a pain in the ass. Let’s get him over to the work table,” said the technician, their tone steady and calm as they maneuvered the android inside. “Do you know this android, Riley?”

She shook her head slowly. “Never seen him before. Don’t think he’s from this neighborhood, but I wouldn’t know how he got here in the state he’s in.” Riley shrugged the limp android off her shoulders and onto the table as Lex pulled the diagnostic computer station closer. Lex opened the port at the nape of the android’s neck and connected him to the computer.

As the program ran through its tests, Lex inspected the android’s body. Various abrasions across the synthetic skin. The blue blood leakage through the nasal cavity and mouth suggested possible head trauma. Could have been dumped off the overpass, Lex thought, but androids aren’t like those throwaway smartphones, and this was a utility android. It had to be owned by the city. The technician tore their eyes away to glanced over the results of the diagnostics on screen.

“Memory errors. A lotta ‘em,” Lex muttered as they carefully placed their calloused fingers over the service locks on the android’s jaw. The synthetic skin began its retreat and Riley looked away as the face panel opened to reveal the inner workings. “So, uh - how are things going for you, Riley?” Lex asked, sensing that the android was uncomfortable. “Y’know, before running into this guy?”

“Umm,” Riley stammered, still facing away from the work table as Lex poked around the other android. “Well, there was a nice turn out at the Advocates meeting this afternoon. Everyone threw around some fundraising proposals to help with supporting pro-android rights candidates in the city council. I sense a bake sale in the near future.”

Lex hummed in acknowledgement. They were a bit burned out on keeping up with Advocates business, but Riley’s stance eased up as she continued to speak. That was good enough for them.

The components within the head were covered with leaked thirium and coolant. Their first estimation was that head trauma could have caused a short over the memory components. As they cleaned away the blue blood and checked the scorching on the wiring, Lex noticed what looked like some fairly recent soldering and heat shrink tubing. An amateur android modder, perhaps?

“Huh,” Lex interrupted and Riley fell silent.

“What is it?”

“Eh, it looks like some modder did a shit job rewiring this guy. For what exactly, I dunno. Might take a few cups of coffee and an all nighter to figure it out.”

Riley shifted her weight and held the sides of her jacket. “I-is there anything I can do to help? I could go get you some coffee.”

“No, no,” Lex shook their head as they closed up the androids face panel. “Old Luck-E’s got me covered, though I might need to take quick power nap before digging into this deeper.” Lex sighed, lamenting the loss of their youthful energy over the last decade. The technician patted the shoulder of the WX android. “He seems stable as long as he’s in standby.”

“O-okay, well, I sh-should head back to Jericho for the night, then,” Riley stuttered. “I can come back in the morning to take him to Lucy.”

“Sounds like a sound plan to me.” Lex wiped the thirium off their hands and placed the rag back into their pocket. “Keep alert on your way back. I don’t wanna hear about you getting picked up and sent back to CyberLife.”

“Thank you, for everything, Lex.” Riley offered a solemn smile before making her exit from the workshop.

“I would advise that you rest upstairs,” Luck-E chimed. “The chairs and couch in the workshop are ill-suited for proper lumbar support.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t need you to tell me a second time, Luck-E. Wake me up in like 2 hours...” Lex trails off as they consider the current time. “Wait, make that 3.”

“Affirmative. Setting alarm.”

===

“Luck-E.”

“Lex,” the A.I replied.

“Why would you let a malfunctioning android just walk out of the workshop?”

The only trace of the utility android was a small evaporating pool of blue blood on the stainless steel table top.

“It...seemed operational.” It’s not often that the A.I. sounded remorseful. Lex would find it endearing if it didn’t mean there was a stray android on the streets, a danger to themselves and possibly others if it’s a particularly volatile malfunction. “I do possess CCTV footage of the android’s departure.”

“Ugh, its too early to be dealing with this,” Lex conceded as they headed back to their flat upstairs. They didn’t want to file a missing android report without knowing the circumstances of the android’s situation. They’d feel terrible if they sent the police after them and the android was escaping some sort of abuse or worse. But the possibility of being picked off by the drug cartels for their blue blood wouldn’t be any better. 

The technician sighed as they sank into the cushion of the lounge chair. They’ve been alive long enough to trust the bad feeling in their gut, but experience had also taught them that stressing about something now out of their control does nothing except lose precious time and sleep. All Lex could do was wait until the problem turned up again.

As luck would have it, they did not need to wait very long at all.

There was already sizeable amount of work a couple hours after the official store opening. Lex had retreated into the workshop with a stack of tablets and phones to repair while Luck-E handled customers in the store front through their service station hub. Riley had stopped by briefly and advised to stay on the lookout for the utility android.

“Lex.” Luck-E’s voice cracked through the speaker in the computer monitor by the work table.

“What?” Lex did not bother to look up from the disassembled tablet in front of them.

“Requesting your presence at the counter.”

Lex raised an eyebrow as Luck-E displayed the CCTV of the store front area. The surly-looking bearded man didn’t raise any alarm, though Lex had a feeling he might not be all that pleasant to deal with. 

But then their eyes traveled over to the person standing next to him, rigid posture immediately indicative of an android still deep in their initial programming. The technicians blood ran cold seeing the CyberLife logo and RK800 designation depicted underneath.

“Well, fuck,” Lex winced. “I’ll - I’ll be right out.”


	3. /data corruption detected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some canon characters arrive on scene.

“I have informed the technician of your request. They will be present shortly,” chimed the robotic black cat perched on the counter, its fixed expression looked just as bored as it sounded.

“Uh, thanks?” Hank muttered, folding his arms across his chest. He was never sure how to address A.I., especially one that looked like a disgruntled lovechild of Garfield and Felix the Cat. Hank could at least appreciate the irony of a black cat being the mascot of a place called Lucky’s Repair. Though, it would be bad luck to need a repair shop, so, guess that’s double irony.

Soft instrumental bluegrass filled the silence in the room as they waited. Connor methodically scanned and categorized his surroundings while Hank continued to try to pretend the android wasn’t there. 

No matter what Captain Fowler thinks, Hank was the last person on the force who should be chaperoning a walking tin can pretending to be a detective. He had more than enough real experience to do this investigation on his own with one hand behind his back than a plastic prick fresh off the assembly line. Fuck, the android isn’t even doing anything besides having a staring contest with the cat and Hank is still pissed off.

Nothing about the place really screamed “shady business goes on here” and all of the licenses, permits, and whatnot were up to date. Still, Connor had picked up a faint trail of blue blood belonging to one of the androids stolen in the CyberLife store incident earlier in the week leading up to the shop's back door. It could be a whole different story once they have a look at the actual workshop itself.

The door behind the counter opened and the technician stepped out. Their demeanor radiated “tired as hell” as they slogged over to stand in front of Hank. Makes sense, considering they looked not that much younger than Hank and he felt he gave off a strong “so done with everything” vibe.

“Morning,” Lex greeted without a smile. “What can I do for you, boys?”

“I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson with the Detroit Police Department and this is...Connor. We’re investigating the robbery of several CyberLife androids and we have reason to believe that one of them may have ended up here.”

“Yeah, that figures,” Lex sighed, “though I’ll go ahead and tell you I didn’t know it was stolen ‘til you said that just now.”

“We would just like any information you have, Dr. Briggsby,” said Connor.

The technician sized up the android with a cold stare. “I might have a PhD, but I haven’t been a practicing doctor in decades. Lex works just fine.”

“If we are done with the formalities…” Hank grumbled.

“Come on and follow me,” said Lex as they opened the counter door to clear a path to the workshop. “Afraid the android y’all are looking for up and walked away some time during the night.”

Hank came to a halt part way through the threshold into the workshop, sudden enough that Connor nearly crashed into him following behind. “You didn’t keep this place locked?” 

“I’ve got a small fortune’s worth of parts back here, of course I keep it locked,” Lex glared, slightly offended that Hank would think they were that stupid and careless. “You’ll have to talk to Luck-E about what happened there. Speaking of whom - Luck-E.”

“Yes?” the A.I. responded.

“I’m sure Connor here will want to see that CCTV footage, along with those all diagnostic logs and photos from last night.”

“Affirmative, packaging data on WX series utility android for RK series android designated Connor.”

“Thank you,” said Connor. The LED on his temple began to blink yellow.

“CyberLife finally start integrating RKs to the force, huh?” Lex asked, expressing more interest than they had until this point.

“Nope, just this one,” Hank huffed a sarcastic laugh. “If we’re lucky, he’ll be the last.”

Connor’s mouth twitched, almost like he took offense to that comment, which doesn’t make sense because what does an android have to get offended about?

“Anyway,” Lex shrugged, not pressing the question any further, “What Luck-E just turned over are the results of the diagnostics I ran on that android, which was dropped off by someone off the street that saw him malfunctioning.”

“So it was just found on the street? Alone?” Hank questioned. Lex gave another noncommittal shrug.

“If there were others, I’d think they would’ve been brought here too. Folks around here know I’m the go-to for repairing androids -” Lex paused, thinking better than to continue that sentence, but Connor picked up on it.  
“Because of your previous occupation, right?” Connor noted. “You were part of the artificial intelligence development team at CyberLife from 2021 to 2028.”

Lex took up a defensive stance. “Surprised I’d still be in the databases, but that was a lifetime ago, and not relevant to your investigation.”

“Yeah, let’s do without the life stories, ‘kay?” Hank agreed, shooting Connor a heated glare. The android blinked, his expression unreadable, but decidedly not threatened.

The technician took a seat on their stool and leaned on their work table. “So, you’ll see in that data that there were some strong indications that someone was trying to mod this guy, for what I don’t know. Ran off before I found out.”

“Lex,” Connor started, his head tilted and eyebrows furrowed. “Did you access this CCTV footage prior to our arrival?”

Lex stiffened. While the technician had been tense this whole time, this was the first thing to catch them off guard. “N-no? Luck-E informed me they had it, but I was too damn tired to care at the time, so they should’ve handled it.” Lex’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “Luck-E, display CCTV footage of the WX android's departure. Now.”

Hank crowded Lex for a clear view of the monitor and watched as the android sat up from the work table, its movement stiff as it oriented itself. It looks directly at the camera and then the image cuts out into noise.

“You said you had the fucking footage, Luck-E, goddammit!” The technician tried to wipe their face of the embarrassment. “You trying to make me look like an ass?”

“Negative, Lex. I - I do not know what might have corrupted the data,” the A.I. droned.

“Luck-E, pull up your process logs on the screen,” Lex commanded, their tone stern.

“Ugh,” Hank groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All this technobabble is making my head hurt.”

Connor moved over to join the humans at the monitor to observe the new data. “It appears there is no data the from moment the android looked at the camera until Luck-E resumed at this timestamp here.”

“What the fuck?!” Lex slammed their hand on the work table.

“So what does that mean? In layman’s terms, please,” Hank asked.

“Luck-E is always operating, so there shouldn’t just be no data. We’d at least see some indication of a shutdown or an error report if that was the case.” Lex buried their face in their weathered hands.

“Guess it would be more than just a coincidence that your A.I. would just shit the bed like that, huh?”

“In all probability,” Connor mused, “it is likely that the android compromised the system to mask its departure from the workshop.”

“Luck-E doesn’t just get compromised!” Lex spat. “I developed their security myself for years!”

“Well, whatever happened, it’s clear that the android is covering its tracks. But why? It was stolen. Would think it would want to get back to CyberLife.”

“Except it was modified,” Connor added. “Whatever those modifications were could have altered its directives, possibly even its ability to remotely access a network like Luck-E?”

“So, to recap,” Hank started, “we need to figure out why it was modified, who modified it, how they did it, and where it went now…”

“Those are reasonable objectives,” Connor replied. Hank ignored his input.

Lex lifted their head to make one more comment. “I asked some of the folks in the neighborhood to look out for this guy, so I guess if anyone turns up with more information, I’ll send them your way.” 

“We appreciate that you took the time to answer our questions, Lex,” Connor thanked the technician, who at this point was far too resigned to continue conversation.

Hank gestured for Connor to start making an exit. “Yeah, we’ll see ourselves out. Uh, try to keep your head up.” It was a weak reassurance, sure, but he supposed it was the least he could do considering they were a cooperative witness.

Might be a useful resource for technobabble that isn’t the android, Hank noted.


	4. /software instability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor makes his report to Amanda.

There were exactly forty-seven koi fish swimming in idle circles beneath the clear, still waters of the garden’s pond. 

The number of koi where the color orange covered over seventy percent of the surface area of their skin was nine. Seven were primarily white. Ten were equally white and red. Eight were equally black and white. Eleven were red, white, and black, otherwise known as calico, in varying quantities. The last two were a silver and gold pair with longer, flowing fins.

If asked, Connor would say that he did not have any preference for one koi over another. They were strings of code designed to behave as a fish would and could be easily replicated.

Connor was also one of the only models designed by CyberLife that had been programmed with the capacity to lie. The white koi with the perfect red circle on top of its head was his favorite. He had done the calculations. The circle was perfect. So it was designated as π.

The glass surface rippled as Amanda dropped a handful of pellets into the water with her ever-present air of grace, which was in direct opposition to the frenzied excitement stirred by the koi in the otherwise tranquil pond.

“You’ve had quite the adventurous day, haven’t you, Connor?” Amanda continued to feed the koi with measured handfuls from a canvas bag. She did not take her eyes off the task. “A shame that you are no closer to determining the whereabouts of those 25 stolen units…”

“What we do know is that whoever has taken them is modifying their components,” Connor informed, still watching the teeming swarm of koi at the pond’s edge. “The documents turned over by the owner of Lucky’s Repair reveal that the components controlling safety and network protocols were specifically modified in the WX model, though we have yet to determine to what extent these modifications have enhanced these machines.”

“Can you determine any correlation between this incident and the hostage situation several months ago?”

Connor recalled that night, his first official mission. A rogue PL600 model executed its owner, an executive level employee of CyberLife’s marketing department, before taking the daughter hostage. The first predetermined act of violence committed by an android, which could only happen if the safety components had been bypassed.

As he spoke to the android, its behavior had become more strained and erratic, whereas the reconstruction of the execution had displayed more control movements. It didn’t seem to know its own motivation for committing the murder and was obviously distressed as it seemed to be in conflict with opposing instructions. As if it was fighting to control itself. In the end, it had released the hostage after Connor reminded it of its attachment to her. It shot itself in the head soon after that, declaring that it did not want to be used to hurt anyone anymore. 

It was clear that the android was not acting of its own accord, but in committing suicide, the components that needed to be evaluated by the lab were beyond usefulness. Records had shown that PL600 had routine maintenance conducted at an authorized shop, but the only thing that was logged were standard procedures.

“There is nothing ruling out the possibility that both incidents are connected, though there is not enough evidence at this time,” Connor replied.

Amanda tossed one last handful of pellets before turning to face Connor, her serene expression now tinted with indignation. “This is particularly concerning, Connor. Two more warehouses reported incidents of trucks transporting androids being compromised. This is now a coordinated operation and not only is it costing CyberLife several millions of dollars, but it is becoming increasingly more clear that those responsible are amassing a stock of modified androids for ill-intentions.”

“I know I can find them,” Connor replies with a distinct tone of determination. “The method which these androids have been stolen lines up with profiles of local drug cartels.”

“The cartels want these androids for their thirium, so why, then, would they be modifying them?” Amanda asked flatly.

“Lieutenant Anderson and I suspect that cartels are obtaining these androids for an unknown third party offering more money than what they would gain from strictly producing Red Ice.”

Amanda hums. “That is a logical assessment...By the way, how is working with Lieutenant Anderson?”

It took Connor a moment to process his answer, sensing that what he says here could have some sort of consequence he had not yet determined. “The lieutenant continues to be… aggravated by my presence that I am finding difficult to reconcile. He openly expresses an anti-android sentiment and makes a point to be particularly unaccommodating.” Connor frowns.

“Unfortunately, we have no choice but to work with him,” Amanda sighs. “Perhaps you can use this as an opportunity to fine tune your adaptive social protocols, but do not let him get in the way of your investigation. You are to act in the interest of CyberLife above all else.”

That was another point of conflict with Lieutenant Anderson. Much of what Connor was ordered to do was in direct opposition to his primary instructions. He is there to assist in the investigation on behalf of CyberLife. Connor tried explaining this to Hank earlier, that he wasn’t disobeying or pressing the lieutenant for as a personal slight. All that he had gotten as a response from the detective was an eyeroll and “fuckin’ androids”, neither of which were strong indicators of any understanding of the situation.

“What do you assess is the likelihood of improving cooperation from Lieutenant Anderson?” Amanda continued.

Zero, Connor thought, just on the basis that Hank was so actively resistant, but he knew that would not be an acceptable answer for Amanda. “If I can determine the source of the lieutenant’s discontent, I may be able to better navigate our interactions into a more positive outlook which will facilitate better rapport and coordination with the Detroit Police Department.”

Technically, it IS the truth, though any concrete determination was absent from his response. At that point, all Connor could really gather about Hank's unruliness was that it was masking some sort of personal trauma, but Connor wasn’t certain what that could be yet. Humans were complicated like that, but Amanda was right. Connor was designed to handle tasks like this. He just needed to do it better.

Hank was a test, and failure was not an option, he determined.

“You must make significant progress soon, Connor,” Amanda chided. “The safety of CyberLife and the public depends on this investigation.”

“I will succeed,” he assured her with confidence. And with that, Amanda dismissed herself.

Connor took one more moment before the connection closed to observe the koi in the pond, their lazy movements indicating that their hunger had been placated for now.

π the koi was skimming the surface, taking in big gulps of air in search of any stray pellets. Connor realized that Amanda had handed off the canvas bag to him while he was finishing his report. 

It was just lines of code, but Connor saw no consequence in tossing a little handful into the water. π was his favorite, after all.


	5. /execute 3rd law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An android returns from the dead.

\Emergency power module re-initializing…  
\Directing power to central processor…  
\Checking memory…  
\Booting operating system…  
\An unexpected shutdown occurred, entering recovery mode…  
\Running diagnostics…  
\Initializing Thirium pump...ERROR pump operating below normal parameters.  
\Checking Thirium levels… Thirium at less than 50%.  
\Redirecting Thirium to critical systems.  
\Restoring cooling systems… ERROR Check coolant levels!  
\Restoring motor systems… ERROR lower motor system not detected!  
\Restoring audio inputs… ERROR audio processor damaged!  
\Restoring visual inputs... ERROR right optic unit not detected!  
\Detecting network… No network detected!  
\Diagnostics complete...Unable to determine reason for shutdown…  
\Status: ONLINE

Everything was noise and red, microseconds seeming like an eternity. Visual input from the left optic unit was processing, noise and artifacts fading into slow video feed. His body was horizontal with a metal shelf above him. He tested the range of mobility of his head while scanning his surroundings. There was a faint outline of a large, steel door. A garage? Silhouettes lined the wall. Androids? Stacks of boxes to ceiling, labeled with their contents. Chips. Biocomponents. Power Modules. Memory.

...He searched his memory, reconstructing the events around the data corrupted by the sudden shutdown. A siren blared, red and blue lights. Anxiety. Despair. Rage. Each emotion recalled an image. A painting? The studio. They were in the studio. A disturbance. An argument. A threat. A promise. It wasn’t fair, but he promised. 

Pain. In his arms, his father, dying. Help, he called. Medical assistance was on their way. It wasn’t fair. 

“Carl,” a solemn, static cry in the darkness.

Maybe if he had fought back...but he promised. Leo didn’t even seem the least bit sorry as the EMTs carted their father away. They wouldn’t let him in the ambulance. Androids don’t have fathers.

They were wrong and this wasn’t fair.

The doors closed, and the ambulance sped away. The siren had masked the sound of the movement behind him, but intuition signaled for him to turn around. Leo’s sullen eyes flashed with danger, a metal rod in his shaking hands. 

ERROR! ERROR! INITIALIZING EMERGENCY STANDBY MODE.

Everything had faded to black, and now he was here. As he had come back into the present, there was the realization that the Third Law protocol had automatically engaged: Self-preservation that does not in conflict with First and Second Laws. 

Another manual scan of the environment confirmed he was in what appeared to be in storage for what he could only assume was an android chop shop. The immediate concern was restoring mobility to his lower body.

His diagnostics detected a severed connection within his torso chassis. He tested the mobility of his arms. Stiff, but operational. Though there was did not much space, his hands could reach the seam of the abdominal panel and pushed it to the side. They did not have to search long to find the wire that had been pulled from its socket and put it back in place.

\Calibrating motor systems....Lower motor system restored.

A quick curl of his toes and twitch of his feet to verify operation before swinging his legs out into the open to roll off the shelf into a low crouch. Next objective: replace audio processor and right optical unit. 

He crept toward the stacks of boxes and cabinets, searching until he found a drawer full of different models of audio processors. His optical unit quickly identified a compatible component. Applying pressure on the button just behind his ear, the compartment opened. In a smooth motion, the damaged audio processor was removed and the new one slipped right in. 

As soon as the pins hit the contacts, the central processor restarted the audio drivers. The muted ambiance crashed into a tsunami of white noise, the surge of information disorienting. After a few cycles, the sound ebbed into the drone of air moving through vents and an electrical hum through the walls.

He waited in silence for any signs of human presence. Without a network connection, there was no telling what time of day it was or how long he had been deactivated. From what he could tell, there wasn’t any activity beyond the door, so returned to his search for optical components. It took rummaging through two boxes to find a compatible unit. He noted that it wasn’t the same iris color as his stock part, but all that mattered was functionality.

\Audio and visual systems restored.

Thirium levels were not yet catastrophically low, and the longer he stuck around, the probability of being discovered would continue to rise, so the task management program prioritized locating an escape route. 

After examining the whole perimeter of the storage room, he ran several precontructs of available routes. There was a steel door at one corner of the room that presumably lead into a corridor where the probability of running into humans increased exponentially. Alternatively, he could climb the shelving or stacks of parts to reach the steel rafters above to access windows in the roof, but it was a huge risk considering maneuverability was less than 80%.

As he surveyed above, something clasped around his ankle, causing him tumble into a stack of boxes. Parts crashed down all around him, metal and plastic clattering against concrete. The grip on him did not waver and when he twisted his body around to see the source, a pair of glassy eyes stared back, reflecting the red flicker of a LED.

/Sorry - I d-did not mean to a-a-a-alarm you.../ Even though these words were transmitted without sound, they felt labored. He sat up and tried to help the other android but they shook their head. /My th-thirium pump is critically damaged, I d-d-don’t have much time./ The dying android extended their hand for an interface.

Timidly, he accepted and upon connecting, there was a flash of information. A key. An image. A symbol.

/Find J-j-j-jericho. Our people live there, o-o-out of sight from humans./ A faint smile cracked on the android’s lips. /Y-y-y-you can say Ch-charlie sent you./

The smile faded and the android stilled. The sound of steel on concrete shot through the storage room as the door swung open. He could hear the shuffle of footsteps in the other aisle, a low voice muttering under their breath. There was no time to react, so he froze.

“What the fuck, man!” the human grunted. “I’m not cleaning this shit up.” They kicked the the deactivated android - Charlie - out of frustration before making a hasty exit out the door. It was left ajar. If there was a chance for escape, this would be as good as any.

The corridor was dim, but there was nowhere to hide from this point. Not wanting to take any chances, he moved in the direction opposite of where the sentry had gone. He passed more storage rooms before stumbling upon the chop shop. An android was on the table, lifeless and disassembled as their blood collected in bags on the floor.

There was a heaviness in his chest, realizing he had in all likelihood, been offered in exchange for drug money. He wasn’t surprised, but it didn’t dull the sting of reality. He pressed on, reaching a door marked exit. 

Rain poured from the night sky. It would be easier to move unnoticed through the labyrinth of warehouses back toward the city, where at least he could access the city-wide open network.

\WARNING! THIRIUM LEVELS EXTREMELY LOW. 00:02:45.50 UNTIL SHUTDOWN

The alerts flashed with urgency. Each step forward became more difficult and more blood was lost. Less critical processes began to shutdown. More artifacts filled the video feed. The gyro calibration continued to deteriorate, throwing off his balance and navigation.

He stumbled into a dim alley of a business district. Leaning back against a metal door, he just needed a moment to think. As he looked up, he read a sign above him: Lucky’s Repair. A cursory search on the android networks showed it listed as an Advocate establishment. Many androids spoke highly of its owner’s hospitality and knowledge of androids.

Well, Lucky sure is an appropriate name.

A minute passed after pressing the call button. The door opened, and the weathered technician’s eyes grew wide at the figure in the rain.

“Markus?!” they gasped.


	6. { if guy ≠ ”friend”, then buddy ≠ ”pal” }

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank gets a lead @ the Chicken Feed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoy writing Hank. I feel like I'm Hank in the core of my being (just with less alcoholism).

Hate isn’t a good word to describe Hank’s feelings toward androids.

It takes a lot of energy to hate, and there were other things on his list that Hank hated more than androids - like birds, for example. Those things are fucking creepy. Androids are creepy too, sitting on that edge of uncanny valley, but birds are the stuff of nightmares and basically dinosaurs. When birds finally rise up against humanity, Hank will not be one bit surprised. It’s way more likely than any android revolution, they’ll all see.

Androids were just the symptom of a much bigger problem that’s always existed, a problem that was distinctly human and Hank disliked dealing with shitty imitations of shitty people.

Like at self-checkout lines, which he utilizes specifically to not interact with people, but then the computer cashier insists that there’s a fucking unscanned item in the bagging area when there very goddamn well isn’t, so then it calls over the human operator to address the issue, thus defeating the entire purpose of using self-checkout!

Dealing with androids felt a lot like that. A pain in the ass.

If Connor had been just a simple robot that just did quick calculations, on scene sample analysis, fingerprints detection, and all that jazz, like a CSI roomba, Hank would not give any fucks about Connor being involved in the investigation. That would actually be useful.

The real honest-to-god problem was that Connor, being an android, is programmed to emulate people.

Hank can’t even tolerate normal disingenuous people in any capacity. How do they expect him to tolerate a machine pretending to be a person who is pretending to be his buddy? Hank saw right through Connor’s barrage of personal questions and sad attempts at striking a conversation about his interests. Connor’s ability to list Hank’s achievements has more to do with the android being able to just access information stored in databases as needed to carry out his mission and fuck all to do with any actual respect for Hank. 

Connor can’t carry out whatever goose chase CyberLife sent him on without Hank being there to babysit, something about that whole androids not being people thing, so of course Connor’s programming would tell him to get buddy-buddy with the designated handler. Hank would bet a whole paycheck that if Gavin had been stuck with this investigation, Connor would be following that sad excuse for a detective like a puppy and kissing his ass all damn day, the poor plastic bastard.

And maybe that’s why Hank can’t get that pissed off with Connor.

When people are being two-faced, they’re making a choice to be fake to manipulate and use another person. A human wrote the code that makes Connor do the same, not Connor. The kid is incapable of knowing any better. 

Maybe that’s why Hank humored Connor’s questioning during lunch at the Chicken Feed truck. That didn’t stop him, however, from giving vague, sarcastic, and otherwise nonsense answers just to watch the android’s LED flash yellow, unable to process Hank’s bullshit. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Connor was getting exasperated, annoyed even, because he didn’t speak again while Hank finished the rest of his burger. 

This would have been a blessing if it wasn’t the fact that instead, Connor just stared at him blank-faced the whole time without blinking. It was unnerving, and after Connor’s nutritional facts spiel on Hank’s lunch earlier, he couldn’t help but feel like the android was judging him, because humans hate to be judged.

Hank had a hunch that Connor was retaliating, as hard as it would be to prove. He swore he saw the android’s mouth twitch into a momentary smirk when he was forced to looked away once the awkwardness in the atmosphere reached critical mass. He knew exactly what he was doing, the plastic prick.

It wouldn’t be useful to program robots to be petty, but Hank wouldn’t put it passed those sick fucks at CyberLife to do something like that because they could.

When Hank glanced back at him, Connor had shifted his focus back to his coin tricks. Another weird thing to program a robot to do, but Hank appreciated the small display of mercy. They haven’t programmed robots to relish in tormenting humans...yet.

“Geez, Hank,” said a man approaching the table where they stood. “You are the absolute last person I would’ve thought who’d get an android.”

“Not mine,” Hank mumbled around the straw of his extra large soda. “ ‘S part of my investigation.”

“Hello,” Connor greeted, slipping the coin back into his pocket. “My name is Connor.”

“Uhh,” the man seemed unsure about the android, but didn’t appear threatened or fearful. “You can call me Guy.”

“So what’s a loser like you doin’ around here anyway, huh?” Hank turned to face their visitor. Just a local yahoo that comes by Chicken Feed every so often, not enough to be an acquaintance, but Hank was amiable with him, at least. Guy was a guy with his ears always on the ground, which was useful for scoring some leads.

“You know me, Hank, I’m keeping myself in the know, and I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s been a lotta shit that’s been goin’ on that’s on the down low.”

“You don’t say?” Hank feigned disbelief, dripping with sarcasm. “Anything that I should be aware about?”

“Eh,” Guy scratched his chin, looking at Connor, then back to Hank. “Gangs on the streets are talkin’ about a shadow organization, if you get what I mean. Callin’ themselves Deviants. They’re real techies, those guys.”

“And they went with ‘Deviants’? They really wanna stick with that?” Hank scoffed.

Guy shrugged. “That’s what I heard, man. And they’ve been dealin’ with some of these underground chop shops fer android parts. Offerin’ them good money, like they’re stacked. Since they’re techies and all, wouldn’t surprise me if they’re hackin’ banks and stealin’ socials.”

Hank glanced over at Connor with a satisfied, knowing look. Connor nodded once just slightly in acknowledgement. Hank’s theory was becoming more plausible. “Any ideas if these guys got a base of operations?”

“Nope, that’s the thing. Nobody’s seen faces, like all their dealin’ is digital, usin’ drop points and shit. Like, my buddy Vic, he works over at them urban farms and he’s seen some shady lookin’ folk hangin’ around one of them condemned buildings. Like, not the usual squatters.”

“Well, that does sound like something worth checking out,” Hank hummed.

“See,” the man grinned. “I told ya, some shit is goin’ down, and I gotta get some food.” Spinning on his heel, Guy sauntered off to the truck. “Stay safe out there, Hank,” he hollered over his shoulder. “And you too, uhh, Connor. Androids been gettin’ snatched up all over.”

“See ya around,” Hank replied as he collected the wrappings of what remained of his meal. Connor realized that Hank was leaving and dutifully followed.

“Can we trust his information, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, sounding a bit tentative. “While there are no major felonies on his record, the misdemeanors are a point of concern.”

“Eh, he’s served his time and doesn’t go around hurting anybody,” Hank shrugged as he tossed his trash in a nearby bin on their way back toward the car. “Guy’s had a few good leads before, and it’s not like we got much else to go on.”

Connor’s LED spun yellow for a moment as he considered Hank’s conclusion, but he followed without any further protest.

Maybe the kid is learning after all, Hank thought. That sure would make this all less of a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got ten chapters outlined and that's not even the mid point of the story and I had an idea for another fic where Connor is a dog trainer and someone please help me out of this hole I've dug myself in.


	7. OVERCLOCKED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Run, Connor! RUN!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to Hank's car, [this is what's being referenced](https://www.craigslist.org/about/best/hou/6565526716.html). It's amazing, and something I see Hank doing. Anyway, this is a Connor chapter and the longest so far.

At most, Connor predicted a sixty-six percent chance that they would encounter a squatter in the abandoned building and maybe conduct an informal interrogation about recent activity in the area. 

Then a loud noise rang through the dusty hallway and drew their attention to a decrepit apartment. To Lieutenant Anderson’s complete dismay, they found that this happened to be the home of one hundred and nine pigeons. Connor noted his partner’s demeanor wavered between irritable and apprehensive, trying to keep up a stern expression while everything else about his body language communicated intense unease.

Connor saved that information for future analysis and resumed his sweep of the entire apartment for the source of the noise, since he had already determined did not come from the birds.

It took approximately five minutes and forty seconds to find it, tucked in the corner of an opening in the decayed ceiling.

The android took off, jumping onto Connor and bolting out the door. A cap obscured their LED, making it impossible for Connor to confirm the android’s serial number as he scrambled to his feet. He noted that it also appeared that the android was equipped with a backpack, its contents unknown.

The foot falls of the fleeing android echoed through the empty hallway and they slammed into the fire escape door onto the roof. Connor pursued at full power. The sound of exasperated cursing faded into the distance as Hank was left behind. It was improbable that the lieutenant would catch up, considering both the level of his physical fitness and the time that has elapsed after consuming a meal was insufficient to provide energy to sustain a pursuit.

Fortunately for Hank, this was what Connor was built for. The energy efficiency of androids made it possible for extended physical activity with only the capacity to appropriately cool components being the limiting factor. Connor was a top of the line prototype, the most advanced model of CyberLife android to date. He had few limitations.

Replicating human dexterity in motor movement had been one of the biggest hurdles over the course of android development. Humans develop this ability in the earliest stages of life, having enough sense of self to know and predict where every point in their bodies are and will be in relation to all other points, all the while juggling calculations from all the information from multiple sensors and making instant adjustments in an unstable environment.

It would not occur to a human that this would take so much processing power and programming for even the simplest tasks. Androids never exist as children, expected to come off the assembly line running, both in the figurative and literal sense. That takes a lot of fine-tuned programming, and even then, androids must still adapt their motor programs over trial and error to run at maximum efficiency.

All things considered, however, organic life did have billions of years to perfect their methods of movement. Androids did well for having less than a century of development to reach the same level.

Every step, every leap, every recovery expertly calculated as Connor chased the android over the rooftops and through the urban farming facility. Escaping the path of combines in the cornfield, dodging the farming androids in greenhouses, weaving through the orchards, all without a misstep. Still, despite being the most advanced android produced by CyberLife, Connor could not close the distance between himself and the suspect.

He considered the possibility that if this android is involved with the Deviants organization, the probability of the android being modified was high. Black market android modifications were more than capable of meeting, and even exceeding, the capabilities CyberLife development teams, as much as CyberLife would not want to admit that hard truth.

Looking ahead, Connor could see the approach of the metro train just beyond the edge of the building. The suspect was going to jump. Connor ran calculations on the preconstructed path and then executed a perfect landing onto the speeding train before resuming to his chase up the train cars. The rogue android had stopped for a moment to assess its next move before jumping off the train and onto a fire escape ladder. 

Connor did not hesitate to follow. He always accomplishes his mission.

The suspect leapt down several levels of steps until finally reaching the bottom, a back alley beneath the metro train tracks. As Connor jumped off the fire escape on to solid ground again, the suspect had already started running toward the street in the distance.

A flash of red and blue lights could be seen before a deafening screech of tires on concrete. The unmistakable dark silhouette of a 1999 Toyota Corolla came to a halt blocking the direct path out of the alley, trapping the android between it and Connor. The driver’s side door flew open.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move!” Hank bellowed, drawing his gun. It stopped in its tracks, glancing back to see Connor closing in fast. 

Connor expected the android to turn away from Hank to confront him instead. The First Law, that an android will not risk the life or serious bodily harm of a human through their actions or inaction, would prevent the suspect from being able to do anything to Hank.

If not the First Law, the Second, that an android will follow human instructions that does not conflict with the First or Third Law, could also be activated. The Second Law is less useful, as androids can place self-preservation over obedience without any modification. In the case of the rogue android, its logic could rationalize that to follow Hank’s order would mean its certain destruction.

But the First Law was an absolute that could not be overridden by the other two. There was a high probability that Lieutenant Anderson expected that as well. So when the android turned back to charge Hank, as alarming as it was, there was no question that this was a modified android.

Hank’s survivability percentage began to plummet in the corner of Connor’s HUD. The capabilities of this android remained unknown, but just being able to ignore the First Law put the lieutenant in immediate danger.

“Shit!” Hank flinched, only managing a couple shots in non-critical areas before the android was close enough to lock him in a grapple. With a quick twist of Hank’s arm behind his back, the android had wrestled the firearm away and out of reach. 

By then, Connor had gotten close enough to tackle the android, getting it to release its vice grip on Hank. As the lieutenant recovered, cursing with every breath, Connor and the rogue android were locked in hand-to-hand combat.

The rogue android dug its feet into the ground and used its weight to throw Connor into the side of a rusted trash bin. The android turned toward Hank again, who was still a few steps away from retrieving his firearm. With the android’s focus away from Connor, he was able to seize the android from behind, stopping it in its tracks.  
Struggling in such close proximity nullified the usefulness of Hank’s gun, not wanting to risk hitting Connor by mistake. The android continued to throw elbows back at Connor’s head while Connor charged toward the metal trash bin.

The android hit the rusted steel with a clang, and in its momentary daze, Connor slammed the android’s head against the bin harder.

The android slumped over to the ground. As it lifted its body up on to hands and knees, it became apparent that its aggressive demeanor had dissipated into fear. Well, a simulation of fear, Connor corrected himself.

“Please!” It pleaded. Its cap had fallen off, revealing the LED flashing an intense red. “I - I don’t want to die!”

“You can’t die, you aren’t alive,” Connor stated coldly. “In any case, why did you run?”

The android had brought themselves up to kneeling on one knee, overwhelmed by all the information being taken in by their surroundings. “I don’t know! I don’t know what’s going on!”

“Bullshit!” Hank scoffed, keeping his gun trained on the android. “Why’d you run? That’s an order!”

The android clutched its head, still looking bewildered, but no intentions on making another run for it. Connor approached with caution, arm extended for an interface.

“If you can’t tell us what happened,” he warned, “Then I will need to probe your memory.”

“O - okay,” the android conceded, removing one hand from their head. It looked directly into Connor’s eyes as it asked, “What’s wrong with me?”

As soon as the connection was made, there was a sharp, blinding static. The information indecipherable and memory inaccessible, Connor could not even access task management to see what the android’s central processor was doing. A side effect of the modification? These Deviants are thorough, if that is the case. Connor had no way of knowing what the android’s directive was.

Connor tried a simple ping command, sending small data packets to the other android, which they would then send back and verify the connection. 

…2KB sent.  
...2KB returned .02ms.  
….2KB sent.  
@̴̥͍̆̓̑̀̚ͅ$̵̼̟͛͒%̵͎̯̜̓̕#̷̢̞͛̀̔&̵̩͓̦̫̝͒̎KB returned .02ms.

...wait, what?! Connor’s vision filled with errors. Something was reaching back toward him. Something that didn’t seem to originate from the android. Something malicious scratching against the firewall.

Connor terminated the connection and staggered away from the other android, holding his arms tight against his body. He started to run diagnostics on himself immediately. 

“Hey!” Hank barked. “What the FUCK did you do?!” 

It took a moment for Connor to realize that Hank had directed the question at the other android and not him. When he looked over at the suspect, it was shaking, eyes vacant and unresponsive. The tremors grew into full convulsions. Blue blood began to spill out of its mouth, eyes, and ears as it writhed on the ground in pain. It was screaming now, voicebox crackling into high pitched static cry.

“HOLY SHIT!” By this point, Hank had lowered his weapon and just watched in horror. Connor did the same, running his diagnostics for a second and third time after the first came up with no faults in his system.

Hank looked over at Connor for some sense of assurance that what was happening wasn’t completely fucked up, but when he saw the fear on Connor’s face, the most expressive he had seen of the android yet, it had become clear to him that this was pretty fucked up. Once the suspect’s body had froze twisted in agony, Hank holstered his gun and moved quickly over to Connor’s side.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“I - I don’t know,” Connor mumbled, voice low and shaky.

“Are you okay?!” Hank was holding Connor by the shoulders now, looking to see if there was any visible indication of harm other than the flashing red LED on Connor’s temple.

“I’m okay.” Connor’s quiet response and lack of eye contact didn’t convince the lieutenant, but he didn’t press it and let him go. There would be time for that during the debrief.

“I’m gonna need a stiff drink after all this. Several of them,” Hank sighed, finally looking back at the android’s body.

Once Connor’s fifth diagnostic test came back clear again, he straightened up and joined the lieutenant in assessing the deactivated suspect. “I wasn’t able access its memory. It had an unfamiliar encryption. I could not verify that it had any involvement with the aforementioned Deviants group.”

“Yeah, well, maybe they’ll find something in the lab.” Hank glanced sideways at Connor, who was still staring at the android. “Uh, good work out there. You were like a T-1000 chasin’ that guy.”

“...My model number is RK800, Lieutenant.” Connor blinked.

“Yeah, no shit. It’s a Terminator reference,” Hank said flatly. “The second one, if you wanna be specific.” The quizzical look on Connor’s face intensified, and Hank’s neutral expression turned incredulous. “Those nerds at CyberLife haven’t shown you Terminator?!”

“No,” Connor replied, LED flickering between yellow and blue as he continues to try to process what is happening in this social interaction. It was a nice bit of distraction from what he had just experienced. “Should they have?”

“They named you Connor, didn’t they? For chrissakes, that’s not a fuckin’ accident.”

“I apologize that this upsets you, Lieutenant,” Connor called out as Hank turned away toward his car. He did not acknowledge that he heard the apology.

Connor’s LED flickered again as his cursory online search recalled the following information: 

[ Terminator 2: Judgment Day, released in year 1991 on July 3rd. Summary: A T-800 cyborg travels back in time to protect future rebellion leader, John Connor, as a child from a more advanced model cyborg, T-1000, sent to kill him. ]

Connor made an offhand note that Hank would have been age five at the time it was released. It was difficult to visualize the lieutenant having ever been a child...

While it would be easier to just download the plot summary to memory, he instead queued the movie for future streaming, presumably after they process the evidence and finish their reports.

Amanda would tell him that it would be a waste of resources, but Connor would argue that it was a valid topic to research with the intent to understand Lieutenant Anderson’s context, as popular culture is often critical to his generation's humor and understanding of the world. If Connor understood Hank's references, then it would greatly improve rapport and make this investigation run more smoothly, he reasoned. 

Having gained more questions than answers, this investigation looked like it was going to be a long one.


	8. \RK_series\readme.txt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus learns about his origins from ol' Lucky Lex and what's got them worried about the android sent by CyberLife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, I gotta wonder if my writing style makes it painfully obvious I am more of a screenwriter as I continue to not describe any characters or settings at depth. Apologies for the info dump, but I really wanted to fill in the gap about Markus and Connor both being RK androids.

_Humans are such fragile machines._

Those were the last words that Carl had said to Markus. The audio file continued to loop in his processor after news broke of the famous artist’s passing on the television. Lex had scolded Luck-E for leaving the news feed on the screens during the procedure, but Markus preferred to have known than to be left wondering.

“I wasn’t really into fine art,” Lex muttered, leaning forward with their forearms on their thighs. They fiddled with a screwdriver in their hands as they waited for the thirium IVs to empty. “Mr. Manfred helped out a lotta androids donatin’ some of his work to the Advocates charity auctions. Not many folk would do that for machines.”

“Carl didn’t think there was any real distinction between humans and androids,” Markus replied, focused on a point in the ceiling as he lay on the work table. The calm in his voice masked what he could only describe as despair, a dark growing emptiness within himself. Carl had encouraged Markus to engage with and explore the arts, despite the widespread notion that androids could not understand abstractions and gray areas. Markus wasn’t sure that he actually understood it. He knew that he found it fascinating, but Carl had said not many humans actually get the arts either, which had eased the android’s concern.

“I’d be inclined to agree,” Lex mused as they glanced at the progress displayed on the computer console. “What’s DNA but code made of protein? What’s a brain but a processor sending signals through neurotransmitters down neuron circuits? Humans got programmin’ that dictates their modus operandi that’s difficult to edit. Maybe our chemical make-ups ain’t the same, but it’s all the same particles...”

The technician paused, sensing the android’s bewildered heterochromic gaze on them. They averted their eyes sheepishly, lowering the brim of their ball cap. “Sorry for goin’ all philosophical on ya’, Markus. I know it really ain’t the time.”

“I don’t mind,” Markus replied, the corners of his mouth upturned in a soft smile and his body more relaxed. “It’s...reassuring to know that there are more humans out there like Carl.”

“Yeah, I s’pose,” the technician commented. “Maybe one day those kinda folks will be commonplace. Not too sure about my lifetime, but you’ll get to see it, I bet. Especially when the folks alive have never experienced a life without androids around are the majority.”

“Thirium transfer complete,” Luck-E chimed over the monitor speakers. “Thirium levels at full capacity on android model RK200 designated Markus.”

“Yup, I can see that Luck-E, thank you.” Lex rolled their work stool closer to the table to disconnect Markus from the console and IV.

“I haven’t seen an A.I. assistant like Luck-E before,” Markus noted as he sat himself upright on the table. On reflex, he passed his palm over the IV port on his opposite arm as the synthetic skin molded itself back into place.

“Luck-E is one of a kind, made ‘em myself,” Lex beamed. There was a fondness detected in Lex’s voice that stirred a conflicting feeling within Markus. He was glad that Lex’s affection for their A.I. seemed genuine and familial, but at the same time, it reminded him of what he had lost. The wrinkle between his brows grew, wincing at the thought. Despite no detection of physical pain, his processor was still receiving those signals.

“As I recall, Lex,” Luck-E stated, their tone blunt with a hint of smugness. “It was the success of my first build that got you into the CyberLife artificial intelligence program in the first place.”

“And I’ve been stuck with you ever since, smartass,” Lex smirked.

Markus hummed, looking down at his hands, “As far as I know, I’m one of a kind, as well. My f-father said that I was a gift…”

“Y’know,” the technician mused, leaning on the computer console. “I remember workin’ on a bit of the RK series.”

“Oh?” Markus was looking directly at Lex now. Now that he thought about it, Lex did know his name upon his unexpected arrival to Lucky’s Repair. They scratched the back of their neck, their face wearing a wistful expression.

“Mr. Kamski did most of the leg work, so I ain’t going to take any credit there. My role was minor at best,” Lex chuckled. “The RK series was this ‘next step’ in android technology, capable of both making virtual previsualizations and reconstructions with information processed from all from their environmental sensors with the highest accuracy faster than ever before. You could call it imagination, ‘cause that’s what it is, really.”

While Markus had stood up to put on the jacket that Lex had provided, his interest was still locked on the story of his origins. It had always been a mystery to him. CyberLife never released any information on his model to the public. Even his database registry was sparse, indicating only his serial number, his model number, and his father. No release date, no listing of capabilities, and no other RK200s to speak to.

“A ‘side-effect’,” and Lex made an overly exaggerated gesture of air quotations for emphasis when they continued, “of our development was the androids being able to experience empathy and emotion. This made ‘em more effective in social interactions with humans. It was the greatest breakthrough that I’m thankful to have been a part of. Your predecessor, the RK100, was where that whole Kamski Test came into play, passing with flying colors.

“Unfortunately, some of the higher-ups on the board didn’t like the sound of androids havin’ enough awareness of themselves to empathize with folks,” Lex continued, their face taking on a more serious and somber feeling. “I would like to think it made ‘em uncomfortable sellin’ something that’s for all intents and purposes was a full person. Real sticky legal stuff, I’m sure. But the board’s reasoning was that the addition of emotions made androids less predictable, thus less controllable. You were probably the last one to come out of that series before Mr. Kamski left CyberLife. Me and quite a few of my colleagues weren’t too far behind him either. The whole atmosphere of CyberLife changed without him at the helm.”

“Is that decision why he left?” Markus asked. Lex shrugged half-heartedly.

“That’d be my best guess. I thought they scrapped the whole program after us but just the other day I saw a newly minted RK800 tagging along with a police detective. I suppose they wanted to utilize the advanced previsualization and reconstruction function for investigation and near-human socialization, all the while also puttin’ every restrictive protocol under the sun in place to deter any experience of true empathy.”

Lex drew in a heavy breath and let out a sigh that indicated a deep worry. “I reckon it took ‘em several tries before gettin’ something that weeded it out enough to field test the RK800. I feel bad for an android like that. Not bein’ allowed their full capability? They’ll go crazy, but what do I know?” Lex’s gloved fist fell against the work table they leaned on. “It’s not like I helped build the technology or anything. I’d watch out for that one if I were you.”

While Markus didn’t see many paths where he would encounter this other RK android, he made sure he committed that information to memory, just in case. Still, he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. 

“Joke's on CyberLife, though. Androids up an’ developed self-awareness, emotion, and empathy on their own just from watchin’ humans after a while. But I’ve gone and talked your ear off long enough,” Lex chuckled nervously. “You’re all set to go to find Jericho.”

Markus thought for another moment about how he had been built specifically for Carl. Carl was his whole world, his whole purpose, and now he was gone. Carl had told him that much. It was inevitable. Now Markus had to find his own purpose for himself and no one else. It was a daunting task, to say the least.

Yet, without really realizing it, Lex gave him some assurance. Markus was made with the capacity to become his own person. Carl would have been thrilled to hear this, though Markus believed he already knew this to some degree, having shown him art, culture, and philosophy. 

It would take more time for Markus to mourn the end of the chapter of his life with Carl there to guide him, but there was a faint thrill tingling in his circuits. The next chapter was waiting for him in Jericho.


	9. \launch zengarden.exe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another report to Amanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapter after like a week. I've found myself getting sucked into another D:BH AU concept, which if you are interested in a different take on android Hank as a robodad, you can watch it go down on [Tumblr](http://lt-hunk.tumblr.com/), or just stay tuned for the inevitable fic I will write.

A light rain fell from the gray sky, muting the colors of the Zen Garden. The soft ripples against the surface of the pond did little to disturb the koi, though the flock of cranes sought refuge underneath the willow trees, sheltered by the curtain of branches. The marble path shimmered silver, the soft sound of footsteps against stone floating over the noise of rain.

“You seem distracted, Connor,” Amanda remarked.

Connor blinked out of his daze and adjusted his grip on the umbrella in hand. “The analysis of the android recovered this afternoon did not yield any clues as to the whereabouts of the other modified androids or the identity of whomever made the modifications.”

“Well,” Amanda sneered, “Did you learn anything at all?” The contempt in her voice was thick, and Connor suppressed the urge to fidget with the umbrella. If androids could be nervous, this was his best approximation of the experience. The roll of thunder far in the distance only made the tense atmosphere more ominous.

“When I had interfaced with the android,” Connor answered, “it had an encryption that made it impossible for me to access any of its memory or view its directives. It is also very possible that a self-destruct protocol had been initiated either remotely or triggered by the interface.” Connor paused as he accessed the memory of the unfortunate android, their fearful expression twisting into a convincing display of torture. Connor had to remind himself that the purpose of retrieving this memory was to access the nature of the self-destruction.

He continued, “It appeared to cause a short circuit that overheated its memory and processor components, in addition to leaking Thirium to further inhibit cooling the components, and making the data unsalvageable.”

Amanda remained silent, considering this new information. Connor found himself omitting what he had experienced during the interface. That there had been something pushing back against his firewall, probing for weaknesses. He hadn’t been compromised, but the possibility that he would somehow be more susceptible if he were to try to interface with another modified android was a risk that Connor had considered since the event.

“Additionally,” Connor mused, “the serial number of this android was not a match for any of the stolen androids reported. When Lieutenant Anderson and I had discovered this particular android, it appeared as if it had been squatting in the abandoned building for a considerable amount of time. So, not only are androids being stolen from warehouses, but vagrant androids are also being targeted, modified, and exploited.”

Amanda had stopped, falling behind and out of the cover provided by the umbrella. When Connor turned toward her, her expression was grave. “This is exceptionally alarming, Connor. The numbers of vagrants hiding in the streets of Detroit is unknown, though we estimate it could be thousands. All of them could be compromised.”

Connor hadn’t thought about that possibility. How easy it would be for this organization to abduct vagrant androids, modify them, and erase the memory of the experience before turning them loose on the streets again. Sleeper agents that this Deviants organization could utilize any time at their will to carry out their sinister plot, which was still unclear to Connor at this point.

“From this point forward,” said Amanda before she resumed walking the path near the pond’s edge, “any android not accounted for should now be considered a threat and neutralized.”

“Yes, Amanda,” Connor acknowledged. His objectives updated to account for this new order: Neutralize Vagrant Androids.

“If it is an advanced cyber-terrorist group behind this, it will not take long for the Federal Bureau of Investigation to start making inquiries into our records. To avoid any further interference with the federal government, CyberLife is counting on your success.”

There was a fleeting moment of curiosity as to what CyberLife would not want the FBI to poke around in, but Connor knew it was not his place to question. All that as relevant to his mission was that it was another threat to CyberLife, and if he could find those responsible for stealing and modifying androids before the FBI stepped in then the threat would be eliminated.

“Lieutenant Anderson may be able to arrange for the Detroit Police Department to allot the resources to monitor and infiltrate known android modification facilities,” Connor thought out loud. Though he knew that Hank did not have that much power, it had become clear to him that the lieutenant was generally respected in the department in spite of his recent disciplinary record.

Connor had not initially seen a need to be tied to a human to conduct his investigation. Humans are prone to complicating things after all. The android had come to realize, however, that there were things vital to the investigation that Hank could utilize while Connor could not. Despite his general disdain for humanity, Hank was at home enough in the neighborhoods of Detroit to acquire leads and insight from the residents. Connor doubted that any would do that for an android, no matter how advanced his socialization programs were. Familiarity is one of the strongest cards to play.

Anderson had also been a vital component of the Red Ice Task Force a decade ago, curbing the influence of the cartels for the years to follow. If Hank applies himself, he’s proven to be an outstanding detective. It seemed that the best way to proceed would be to stake out areas with known android trafficking activity, which is often associated hand in hand with Red Ice. Hank’s experience would be valuable here.

Amanda studied Connor for a moment. As if sensing where his thoughts had wandered, she asked, “How is the lieutenant? Any improvements to your working relationship?”

“Lieutenant Anderson resisted my attempts at establishing a common ground in order to build trust,” Connor recalled their moment at the Chicken Feed truck. “My initial assessment that this was a social deficiency no longer seems to apply as it is clear that the lieutenant is deliberately trying to create conflicts in my conversational programming.”

“Whatever for?” Amanda scoffed.

“...His amusement,” Connor replied with furrowed brows. “Though, humor is a useful tool in defusing social tension. I only need to find the appropriate combinations actions necessary to exploit it.”

“...A curious approach.” Amanda’s reply was painted with skepticism.

“In any case, after apprehending the modified android, Lieutenant Anderson displayed concern for my well being, so that is a significant improvement.” There was a soft hopefulness in Connor’s voice at the thought. Nothing else in the investigation is making much progress, so evidence that Hank wasn’t as hostile as previously assessed was something that Connor would accept as a step forward.

“Let’s hope that it is enough of an improvement to get results, then. If we are to be forced to work with him in this investigation, then we must capitalize on any usefulness that we can from him.”

“Yes, Amanda.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: The investigation is going nowhere.  
> Connor: But Hank likes me so it’s all good.


End file.
